


christmas around me

by dizzy



Series: we're all fucking fine 2020 advent fics [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, and quarantine, contains references to lockdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27842686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: Simon and Baz get to know each other in an unconventional - and lockdown approved - way during the 2020 holiday season.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: we're all fucking fine 2020 advent fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035990
Comments: 55
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _snowbaz, non magic au strangers to lovers in their 20s_

Lockdown is a lonely affair. It’s been true for most of the year, but it feels especially so now with the holidays creeping up on him. 

Not that Baz entirely minds that. He spends a large part of his life alone by choice - avoiding the sun, avoiding the crowds of screaming people, avoiding the knock on the door when his aunt comes to visit. 

He’s not a total shut in. He goes on his walks, and enjoys them thoroughly. He visits his family home once a week for dinner, so his sisters and his brother grow up knowing his face. He goes to the shops, though he tends to wait until hours into the night. 

At least, he did. Now the city's on lockdown and he doesn't really do any of that. He has calls on his computer with his sisters - usually just Mordelia, well into her teens and far more interested in tales of meandering adulthood than the younger ones. 

She's even asked to spend some time before Christmas in his flat with him. He'd said no with gentle firmness, because while she is undoubtedly his favorite he's also quite sure he'd murder her given that much confined closeness. 

It's just in his nature to be a creature of solitude. 

-

He does miss the shops, though, especially at the start of December. 

They shortened the hours of the store and he respects why, but fear of contagion and crowds keep him away from their daytime hours. It isn't as though he doesn't have money for a delivery service, anyway. 

But the delivery person doesn't have hair that looks like golden fire when the sun hits it just right, or gorgeous eyes. He doesn't laugh and tease at Baz for his odd assortment of food items and his addiction to salt and vinegar crisps. 

Baz would rather be lit aflame than confess that the random assortment of food items are mostly due to the fact that his shopping trips are more to see the checkout clerk than out of actual necessity. At least once a month he carts assorted canned and shelf-stable goods to the food pantry a few minutes away because the excess sitting in his cupboards makes him feel guilty and like his attractions are far too obvious, even if only to himself. 

He doesn't like feeling vulnerable. He doesn't like feeling seen. 

Except maybe by the man whose Tesco name tag reads 'Snow.' 

-

Baz asked him once what kind of a name Snow was. 

Snow had shrugged one shoulder and said, "Was already a Simon when I started. Think he buggered off to Romania or something. They just never made me a new tag." 

"Oh," Baz had said. Snow isn't his first name. That makes more sense. He tucks embarrassment away, hides it under layers of disdain - practically a sneer as he says, "Simon, then."

Blue eyes narrowed at him. "You can just call me Snow, mate." 

Baz wants to say that he doesn't think he'll have need to call Snow any damn thing. That Snow's only job is to take his money and bag his shopping up. 

But by the time he conjures the words his fish oil and apples and toilet roll were securely in his shopping bag and waiting for him and he had no reason left to linger there. So he'd just... turned and walked out. 

-

He does still go on late night walks. 

There's a curfew, sure, but he hasn't gotten caught out yet. He's always blended in well with the night. Something about the hair, maybe. Or the fact that his wardrobe is almost all black, mask included. 

He doesn't usually have a destination in mind when he sets off on foot, but somehow tonight he ends up near the Tesco anyway. 

He's not expecting to see anyone there. He's certainly not expecting to see a glimmer of hair cast orange in the yellowish lamplight glow. 

Simon Snow doesn't see him yet. He could backtrack away. 

Instead he brushes his fingers through his hair to adjust it in a futile way and then steps forward. He takes a sliver of pleasure in how his voice makes Simon Snow jump. 

"Oi," he says, voice full of bluster and behind that barely concealed alarm. "Who's there?" 

Baz takes another step forward, bathed in that same yellow light. "There's a curfew, you know." 

He's aware that his voice is cutting. Fiona tells him it's a defense mechanism. He tells her fuck off, maybe he just doesn't like people. 

And then he just laughs. It's such a bother, never being taken seriously by someone. 

Simon Snow's eyes go wide. "Oh. It's you." 

"It's me," Baz agrees coolly. 

"You're a ponce," Snow says. 

Baz snorts. Snow's not wrong. "And you're toiling your days away doing menial retail work." 

Snow shrugs. "Who's the essential one here?" 

"How do you know I'm not?" Baz challenges him. "I could be a doctor. I could be a medical researcher." 

"Are you?" Snow asks. 

"No," Baz says. 

"But you could be." 

"But I could be," Baz agrees. 

There's silence. Baz really should turn and walk away. There's no reason to stay. 

"Well." Snow kicks his foot out and disturbs the thin layer of white that covers the ground. "Dunno about you, but I was just going bloody stir crazy shut in my flat." 

"Yeah," Baz says, after a moment of debating what to respond with. 

He could take a jab at Snow and say he seems a bit crazy anyway.

He could take a jab at himself and say he wouldn't know any different, it's not as though he has friends. 

But in the end he just... agrees. 

-

For fifteen minutes he stands there by the light pole, while Snow sits there on his bench. There's an appropriate amount of distance between them. They've both got their masks on. 

Baz actually finds that he hates not being able to see Snow's face. Snow has a nice face. It's so nice it actually makes Baz angry sometimes.

"Bugger." Snow yawns and looks up to the sky. 

As if on cue, flurries start again. 

"Guess I should go home," he says. 

Baz wants to ask him where home is. He wants to ask him if he can come too. He wants to know if Snow's got a big fireplace like he does. He wants to know if there are socks on his floor and what kind of cereal he prefers. 

Baz closes his eyes against the sudden burst of yearning. It's a curse, falling in almost-love with someone you almost don't know at all. 

He probably has a pretty blonde girlfriend waiting for him in a flat full of pinterest decor the perfect pretty blonde designed. He probably has pictures of his perfect mum and dad and a load of bright-faced siblings. 

"I suppose so," he say belatedly. 

"You should too," Snow says. He stands and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "You'll catch cold." 

"Might prefer that this year to what else is going around." Baz pauses. “I’m referring to the mass stupidity epidemic, of course.” 

He smiles so wide Baz can see it even through the mask. His eyes look positively delighted. "You made a joke." 

Baz immediately wants to cower back into myself. "I do that sometimes." 

"Yeah," he says. We're still standing on the sidewalk, eight feet or so between us. "But usually they're at my expense." 

Baz is not sure why, but that lands. He purses my lips, though Snow can't see. "I'm sorry." 

Now he looks absolutely flummoxed. "Don't be," he says, and takes another step back. "I kinda like it." 

Snow walks away and Baz stands there watching him until he turns a corner.


	2. Chapter 2

Baz is - as many people often are - drawn to comforting things from his childhood on days when the world feels particularly lonely. 

He finds himself, a grown man of his mid-twenties, searching youtube for old songs from cartoons he only distantly remembers having heard as a boy, watching old films that don't stand up to the passage of time, and spending his hours remembering foods he associates with that charmed period of security and happiness before he lost his mum. 

She used to make cherry scones. 

He can't remember how they tasted, but he can remember how they smelled. Most keenly he remembers the scent drifting into his bedroom, followed momentarily by his mum with a plate of them. They'd sit in bed and he'd cuddle against her and they'd eat cherry scones. 

His heart crawls into his throat just thinking about it. Memories are a bit of magic like that. There's nothing else in the world that can transport him back to a moment in time he never wants to forget like a smell. He wants it so badly he's almost choking on it. 

It's lonelier for having no one to share the memory with, though; his dad was never there on cherry scone mornings. If Mordelia and his other siblings have similar traditions, they exist in a world apart from Baz's. They have their own mum who is probably instilling in them traditions all of her own making. 

And he's glad for that. It's just... lonely. 

-

He doesn't have her recipe for cherry scones and he's sure he won't stumble over the exact right one the first go at it, but he's really got nothing else to do with his time during lockdown so he decides he might as well give it a go. 

Bicarbonate of soda, butter, caster sugar, buttermilk, vanilla extract, cherries. He combs his cupboards to see if he's missing anything else he'll need, but he has the milk and enough flour already. 

He adds a few more dinners that won't be difficult to prepare and more of his favourite tea, since he's almost out, and sends the order in. 

-

It doesn't usually come until the next day. 

Everyone in the whole of bloody England is trying to get their shop done online and delivered, except those that don't give a fuck about safety and health of those around them, and Baz can't relate to that. 

He's very surprised to get his order barely into evening on that same day. Delivery is contact free, there's no knock - he'll get a text message once the delivery person has gotten a safe distance away - but he's always had keener than normal hearing. He listens to the sound of footsteps, the rustle of the bags, and then once the footsteps fade away he opens his door to a small collection of bags. 

It's too late for scone making, he's got it in his mind already that he gets to do nothing productive for the rest of the day - and besides, scones just feels like a project for the morning hours. If they turn out well he wants to be able to enjoy them warm and fresh from the oven.

He doesn't find the slip of paper inside of them until he's almost finished putting things away. It's scrawled across the bottom of the order slip, handwriting so slanted and messy that Baz almost can't read it to begin with. 

_Your awkward late night walk friend checking in._

_ps: Whatever you're making, I wish I could come over to yours._

_pps: Actually you should just let me know what you're making. I'll be curious until the end of time if you don't. Here's my number._

And underneath is, indeed, a number. 

-

He doesn't text until almost midnight. 

It takes that long to work his courage up. 

Not that he's afraid of some checkout clerk that happens to have a bit of a nice looking face. He's Baz Pitch. He's faced scarier things before. Much scarier. Like having to participate in his father's second wedding. Or Mordelia's temper tantrums in public when she was a toddler. 

Or living a life without a mum. 

Anyway, it just - takes him a while. Sometimes he's shy about people. Men-shaped people. That are fit. 

Baz:  
cherry scones

Simon  
mate!! what time do i come over for breakfast

Baz  
never. we're in a pandemic. 

Simon  
It was a - what do you call those questions that aren't really questions?

Baz  
Rhetorical?

Simon  
ta  
It was a rhetorical question. 

Baz  
They may turn out shit anyway. I've never made them before. 

Simon  
Lockdown baking? Seen a lot of that in my trade. 

Baz   
I imagine so. 

Simon  
Lot of other weird things too. 

Baz  
First of all, baking isn't weird.   
Second - like what?

Simon  
It's mental how much lube we sell now. 

Baz  
What?

Simon  
Lube!! You know, like for the ole [eggplant emoji]

Baz  
You do realize that the weirdest thing happening is that you're telling me about the sexual purchases of other customers, right? 

Simon  
Oi. It's not like I'm naming names.   
Or like you're one of them.   
You're just out here bloody baking things that sound delicious and being a twat by not sharing. 

Baz  
Did you just call me a twat? 

Simon  
Sure did. Wotcha gonna do about it, mate? 

Baz  
I could stop responding to your texts. And very well may. I don't need to be verbally abused at midnight by someone that works at a Tesco. 

Simon  
Something wrong with working at Tesco?

Baz  
I didn't say that. 

Simon  
I'm ESSENTIAL, apparently. 

Baz  
I'm sure you are. 

Simon  
Not essential enough for a raise, mind you.   
Just essential enough to have to work during the bloody plague. 

Baz  
Unfortunate. 

Simon  
Thanks, I appreciate the overwhelming sympathy.   
We didn't even get a fucking round of applause.   
Anyway. What do you do?

Baz  
What I do is inconsequential. 

Simon  
Are you getting down on yourself there?   
Or is that you telling me fuck off, mind your business. 

Baz   
Yes. 

Simon  
To which one? 

Baz  
Yes. 

Simon   
lmao   
You ARE a twat.   
I'm going to bed, have to work tomorrow.   
Tell me how your scones turn out. 

-

Baz lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

He won't pull the phone back out and reread that conversation. He won't obsess over things he said. He won't text Snow in the morning with a scone update. He'll be a civilized fucking man with some measure of subtlety. He can do that. 

Really. He can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Sarah for beta reading, you're better than boredom baking during a pandemic. And I've done a lot of that. <3


	3. Chapter 3

Baz really has no idea how he's adopted a constant companion that lives, to the extent of Baz's reality, only within the inner workings of his phone. 

They haven't done anything more than text but the conversation has been going for three days now, occasional lapses for sleep and work that Baz always convinces himself are The Actual End but then another text comes through. 

It's quite distracting, truth be told. 

He has a job to do. A job he's actually paid for, one that his bosses expect productivity at even with the current situation of lockdown. But he can't stop texting this unfortunately fit idiot that is obsessed with Baz's cherry scones and finding out details of his life. 

-

Simon  
So how long have you lived in London for? 

Baz  
What concern is it of yours? 

Simon  
Making conversation, mate. It's called politeness. Look it up. 

Baz  
I think politeness would entail not sending me messages at three in the morning. 

Simon  
That wasn't rude. That was just me spicing your life up. 

Baz  
I put my phone on silent. 

Simon  
Now THAT was rude. 

Baz  
I hate you. 

Simon  
:D

-

The scone thing - it's almost funny. 

The first batch had been horrid, and Baz hadn't ordered as many cherries as he'd thought. He'd managed one more attempt at the same recipe but didn't have enough ingredients for a third. 

He hadn't told Snow before he put in another Tesco order, but as he finds out later Snow is the one that always fills orders when he's on shift. He says he likes walking around the store better than he does just standing still. He's not very good at standing still. 

(There are many ways in which Baz would like to see Snow move, none of which he will be sharing with the class.)

When he got the order back, there'd been another note inside with a handwritten recipe. 

_Copied this from one of the cooking magazines we've got on the shelf. - SS_

-

He's tried Snow's copied recipe twice, too. 

They're better than the first but something's not right. They come out too dry, crumbling too much in an unappealing way in his mouth. 

Simon  
Maybe some people like their scones crumbling and dry. 

Baz  
I don't.   
They're not right. 

Simon  
What's your ideal scone then?

Baz.   
Soft. Flaky. Buttery. Like melting, not tumbling. 

Simon  
Stop.   
That's a fucking sext. 

Baz  
I don't need to know what arouses you, Snow.   
Especially not if it's foodplay. 

Simon  
I don't play with food, I just eat it.   
That's not a euthemphism or anything. I really just like to eat. 

Baz  
Euphemism? 

Simon  
Yeah that!  
Are you going to call me an idiot again? 

Baz  
Yes. 

Simon  
Well you started it mate. 

-

He tries two more batches and both are failures. 

He doesn't tell snow. He's actually embarrassed at this point, even if he's blaming it on the recipes. The last ones weren't even horrible, just not what he remembers. Not what he wants. 

He doesn't let himself think that maybe he's so intent on this because ordering supplies makes him feel strangely close to this man that's officially the person he's spoken more to in the past week than anyone else. 

-

He's just waking from an early evening nap on the sofa when he hears scuffling at the door. He's always slept better during the day than at night. His body just wants to be awake at night. But he's also a light sleeper so the footsteps and the sound of something hard hitting the ground with controlled force stirs him easily. 

He stays in on the sofa. No contact, those are the rules. (Maybe more for the delivery person than Baz, but Baz has no problem avoiding people.)

He gets up when he knows the hall is clear. He's only expecting a small bag, just more flour and cherries and butter. He finds two - a second taller, thinner bag. He picks it up and knows from the moment his fingers wrap around the neck of the bottle what it is. 

-

Baz  
Did you send me wine? 

Simon  
Sure did. 

Baz  
Why?

Simon  
Dunno. Just felt like it. 

Baz  
Really.

Simon  
Maybe it's me thanking you for putting up with me. 

Baz  
Do you commonly have to bribe people with alcohol to talk to you?

Simon  
Nah. My best mate doesn't drink. I bribe her with tea.

Baz  
Ah. 

Simon  
Thought you could crack it open tonight. 

Baz  
Why tonight?

Simon  
Because I'm off for forty-eight hours straight. It's brilliant. Means I can get pissed tonight, be hung over tomorrow, and still not have to go to work feeling like I'm going to vom everywhere. 

Baz  
Ew. 

Simon  
Trust me. You don't want to be near me when I'm hungover. 

Baz  
So you want me to get drunk with you? 

Simon  
If a bottle can get you drunk, sure. 

Baz  
What if I have work to do? 

Simon  
Work drunk, edit sober? 

Baz  
You're ridiculous. 

Simon  
But you'll drink with me, eh? Ehh? 

Baz  
Fine. 

-

One bottle of wine can absolutely get him drunk. 

That's how he comes to be baking cherry scones at eleven pm, texting pictures of his progress to Simon every step of the way. 

There's far more mess than there would normally be. He's glad no one is here to see this, but he can't seem to care enough to be tidy. He can even see flour on his nose when he catches his reflection in the chrome of his fridge. 

Baz  
They're in!

Simon  
VICTORY  
How long? 

Baz  
Ah, fuck. I forgot to set the timer. 

Simon  
Just tell me. I"ll be your timer. I'm a good timer. 

Baz  
I'll bet you are. 

Simon  
What does that mean? 

Baz  
I don't know what anything means. 

Simon  
Deep.   
Time? 

Baz  
It's 11:41. Don't you own a clock?

Simon  
lmao  
For the scones. 

Baz  
.... shut up.   
Twelve minutes. 

Simon  
Minus the two it took you to remember that you didn't set the timer. 

Baz  
If they're burnt, it's your fault. 

Simon  
Why do I get the feeling you just don't like anything to be YOUR fault? 

Baz  
I don't know, Snow. Why do you get that feeling? 

Simon  
You're a perfectionist. 

Baz  
If you grew up with my father you would be too. 

Simon  
I didn't grow up with a father at all. 

Baz  
What?

Simon  
Or a mum. I grew up in care homes. 

Baz  
I didn't know that. 

Simon  
Of course you didn't, why would you?   
Tell me about your dad. 

Baz  
I don't have a mum either.   
She died when I was young.   
I have a step mum. Her name is Daphne. She's fine. 

Simon  
Do you have brothers or sisters? I always wanted those. 

Baz  
I do, but they're much younger than me. I went to a boarding school so I never really grew up with them. 

Simon  
Wow, posh. 

Baz  
Yeah. 

Simon  
Care homes are not posh. 

Baz  
I'm sure they're not. 

Simon  
They're actually pretty shit. I'm glad to be out of them.   
I used to live with Penny, my best mate. But she's spending a year in America doing some sort of special training. Penny's the smartest person I know, she's getting her phd. 

Baz  
I could have done that. But I didn't.   
What is she studying?

Simon  
I'm sure you could have.   
I can't spell it. 

Baz  
Because you're drunk?

Simon  
Let's say it's because I'm drunk, yeah. 

Baz  
Did you go to uni? 

Simon  
Nah. Couldn't be arsed. 

Baz  
That sounds freeing. 

Simon   
Yeah the very free world of working shit jobs for barely any money. 

Baz  
But you still get to choose. 

Simon  
And you didn't? 

Baz  
Between options my father approved? Yes. 

Simon  
Guess things are shit if you go too far on either side of the grass being greener or... whatever that is. 

Baz  
You're very bad speaking aren't you. 

Simon  
I'm just tired.   
I never get two days off in a row. I don't know what to do with myself.   
Not like I could have plans anyway but being alone gives me too much space to think. 

Baz  
You have plans.   
With me.   
These are plans.   
We planned this. 

Simon  
[is typing]

Simon  
[is typing]

Simon  
[is typing]

Simon  
Your scones are ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Sarah for beta reading. You're better than cherry scones.


	4. Chapter 4

Simon  
We should have lunch

Baz  
What?

Simon  
Lunch  
We should have it

Baz  
I’m already having lunch. 

Simon  
I’m jealous. I want to be having lunch. 

Baz  
You always want to be eating every meal. 

Simon  
Awww you know me   
That’s not what I meant though!  
We could get a takeaway and eat in a garden.

Baz  
Do you have a garden?

Simon  
No. Don’t you?

Baz  
No

Simon  
Oh. Fuck. 

Baz  
Mhmm. 

Simon  
What if I sit in your hallway?

Baz  
Then my neighbours would probably ring the police. 

Simon  
:(

Baz  
Why do you want to see me? 

Simon  
Dunno. Just do. 

Baz  
You want a scone, don’t you. 

Simon  
……….. No. 

Baz  
Lying is very unbecoming, Snow. 

Simon  
What is becoming then 

-

Baz stares at the phone screen. 

Is Snow flirting with him? 

No, he thinks. Surely not. This is just Snow’s personality, isn’t it? Strange and brash and irreverent. 

-

Baz  
Harry Styles naked in my head with champagne and chocolate dipped strawberries 

Simon  
I don’t think we sell that at Tesco 

Baz   
I’d be horridly upset if you did and I’d somehow been missing it this time. 

Simon  
You’re not the only one, mate 

Baz  
Is that so? 

Simon  
I mean who doesn’t love Hazza, right? 

Baz  
Who, indeed. 

-

Baz maybe spends the next twelve or so hours in a desperate tailspin of wondering if Simon’s just a fan of music or if there was something more to that. 

-

Baz  
We can have lunch. 

Simon  
Thought it was a shit idea? 

Baz  
I’ve had time to reconsider. 

Simon  
So you’re bored then eh? 

Baz  
Out of my goddamn mind, Snow. 

Simon  
I can’t actually though. :(   
One of the ladies I work with quit. I’m working doubles til the bloody cows come home. 

Baz  
Unfortunate. 

Simon  
Yeah. 

-

Baz goes out for another late night walk. 

It’s been a couple of weeks since he’s done it - a couple weeks of work meetings over Zoom and texting with Snow and watching the world burn through the little boxes on his computer screen. 

But he’s out tonight, because he knows Snow’s working late tonight and he’s on a mission. 

He also knows that Snow is off shift in about fifteen minutes. His feet crunch over snow at a slightly quicker pace, because timing matters. 

He gets there about five minutes before the shift change. His heart is pounding like he’s carrying off the heist of a century, when all he’s doing is finding the stand full of leaflet newspapers right outside the sliding door entrance to the store. 

When he’s right in front of them, he lifts up the bag he’s been carrying and puts it down. He means to walk away right after that, but instead he glances over just in time to see Snow smiling politely at a customer. 

His heart pangs a bit in a way that he feels is truly pathetic. He could just stand here, he knows. He could be waiting when Snow walks out. Snow would even be happy to see him. 

But he doesn’t know what would happen from there and he’s not sure he’s ready to find out just yet. 

So he turns and walks away, pulling his phone from his pocket to send off a text as he goes. 

-

Baz  
Check the newspaper stand on your way out. 

Simon  
???

Baz  
Just do it. 

Simon  
Uhhh okay. 

Simon  
MATE  
Are these cherry scones?? 

Baz  
I think I’ve almost gotten to an acceptable level. 

Simon  
Acceptable?   
Are you off your nut?   
These are bloody incredible!!   
[picture message]

Baz  
I did not need to see you with an entire scone in your mouth, Snow. My God, were you raised in a barn? 

Simon  
Nah, just a care home. 

Baz  
You realize that card works less each time you play it. 

Simon  
Tell that to my dead parents. 

Baz  
Snow. 

Simon  
:)  
You brought me scones!   
Wait you brought me scones.   
Why didn’t you stay? 

Baz  
Social distancing. 

Simon  
Oi. You could have at least shouted hi. 

Baz  
I’m sure your managers would have liked that. 

Simon  
As long as you aren’t breaking anything while you shout they don’t give a proper fuck.   
Next time you have to stay. 

Baz  
Why are you under the assumption that I’ll be bringing you baked goods again? 

Simon  
Because I can’t live without these in my life now. Duh.   
If you didn’t want to make me an addict you shouldn’t have given me the first lot free.   
Rookie mistake, mate.

Baz  
Mistake, indeed. 

-

He’s shivering by the time he makes it inside. His flat isn’t even that far from the shop, but the later it is the colder it got until the tips of his fingers were numb from it. 

He’s almost relieved when his phone rings because it means he can turn it on speaker while he starts a fire going and warms his fingers. 

“No one besides Pen has given me a gift in ages,” Snow says, skipping any semblance of a greeting. He’s blunt like that - not rude about it, just direct. Like he’s only got so much time and doesn’t see any use wasting it on pretenses. 

Baz is used to it by now. He even likes it. He likes being someone Snow hurdles stray thoughts at. 

“Well,” Baz says. “You did help aid the learning process through ensuring I had an abundance of supplies.” 

“You are a posh bastard, did you know that? ‘Ensuring I had an abundance-’ come off it.” Simon’s laughing. 

Baz isn’t offended. If anything, it makes his chest pull a little tight in a nice way. “Blame my father. Boarding school does that to you.” 

“If I ever meet him, I’ll give him a real what for. Tell him he was an idiot not to keep you around.” Simon speaks with an intensity that surprises Baz. 

“So,” Baz says, suddenly very desperate to change the subject. “Harry Styles?” 

“You’re the one who named him,” Simon says. 

“Right.” Baz stops rubbing his hands together. He’s abruptly warm enough. “You can’t fault my taste, though.” 

“Suppose I can’t.” There’s an awkward silence that stretches over the line. Then Simon says in an almost bashful voice, “Thanks. I mean it. The scones are amazing.” 

“Yeah, well.” Baz scratches his neck right above his collarbone, then leans backwards on the sofa. “Bit sad to make so many and eat them all myself.” 

“Yeah…” Simon sighs. “Did I tell you Penny’s gone home until the new year?” 

“You did not,” Baz says. 

“Yeah. Quarantined herself, took a test, and then her mum came and picked her up. She invited me but… if I’m not here working I can’t manage my half of the rent.” 

“So you’re alone for the next…” Baz tries to do the math in his head. 

“Three weeks,” Simon says, then yawns. “Least I’ve got you, yeah? Maybe we can figure out that lunch.” 

Baz’s throat feels thick suddenly. He’s not sure the cause of it. Snow is a grown man, and Baz is very familiar with the concept of loneliness for himself. It’s a survivable condition. He has no idea why the mental image of Snow sitting lonely in a flat bothers him so much. 

“Yeah,” he says, forcing past his own emotional repression. “We’ll figure it out soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loneliness is a survivable condition, but I still want to thank Sarah for the fact that I rarely feel lonely. <3


	5. Chapter 5

Baz has learned a lot about Simon Snow in the past week. 

He's learned that Snow is always, always hungry. He's learned that on days when he has an opening shift he doesn't even sleep beforehand. He's learned that Snow applied to ASDA and Waitrose but Tesco was the only one that rung him back. He's learned that Snow likes having to wear the same sort of shirt to work every day because he can't be bothered picking out clothes for himself. 

He's learning the sort of things you learn when you become friends with someone, which is frankly terrifying. Baz doesn't have a lot of experience with making friends. He's got a few he inherited just by virtue of his parents having sons at the same time as families that ran in the same circles. He's got almost none from his boarding school. He's got actually none he's made as an adult. 

But now he has Snow and a collection of random facts about the man, which unfortunately just feeds into the desire to know more and more and more. 

-

Simon  
What's for lunch? 

Baz  
Ramen

Simon  
On mate you're killing me.   
Made it yourself?

Baz  
Takeaway

Simon  
Show me?

Baz  
You are shameless.   
[image attached]

Simon  
How is even your ramen posh?

Baz  
It's not posh. 

Simon  
How's it listed on the menu? 

Baz  
Gochujang ramen with tofu 

Simon  
POSH

-

Baz  
When will you have mulled cider back in stock? 

Simon  
If you want to ask stock questions you have to ring the store.

Baz  
Will you answer if I do? 

Simon  
My shift ended an hour ago   
You'll get Loz, though. She's nice. 

Baz  
I'm sure she is. 

Simon  
Mulled cider, eh? 

Baz  
I've got a craving. 

Simon  
I'm sure we've got apples if you want to try your own hand.   
If you've got a blender. Juice blender. Whatever you call it. 

Baz  
Juicer?

Simon  
Sure, that. 

Baz  
My mum used to make it like that. 

Simon  
Yeah?

Baz  
Around this time of year. Tradition, and all. 

Simon  
Wouldn't know. 

Baz  
Sorry.

Simon  
It's alright. I guess care homes do have traditions, too. All these people that volunteer once or twice a year would show up and we'd have the same meals of overcooked meat and mash and soggy veg for the whole of December. The real treat was that we'd get a clementine on Christmas Day.  
And we'd get toys in, charity shop donations. We'd each get to pick one. You always wanted to be at the start of the line because if you were near to the back you'd just be left with books that someone had already ripped pages out of or the pull string puppy whose string didn't even work. 

Baz  
Wow. 

Simon  
I bet you got loads of toys. 

Baz  
I guess. Ones my father approved of. Lots of wooden block sets. Musical instruments. One year I got a new billiards table. I still don't even like billiards. 

Simon  
What would little Baz have wanted? 

Baz  
You'll laugh. 

Simon  
Sure I will.   
Tell me anyway. 

Baz  
I wanted a magic set. 

Simon  
Like tricks and wotsit? Abracadabra? 

Baz  
Like that.   
I wanted to wave a magic wand and do magic things. 

Simon  
I'm trying to imagine you now. Cape and all? 

Baz  
Cape and all. 

Simon  
Bloody adorable. 

Baz  
Shut up. 

Simon  
What! I'm serious. 

Baz  
What about you? 

Simon  
I think I'd be a shit magician. I'd probably end up blowing the whole world up trying to pull a rabbit out of a habit. 

Baz  
I meant what did you want as a kid? 

Simon  
My own bike. Sweets that no one would steal. To sleep in a place that wasn't full of other smelly loud boys.  
It's funny, I do have my own room now, and I can't sleep because of the quiet. I leave my telly on sometimes but Penny says it keeps her up at night.   
Anyway, blathering on. Tell me more about the posh Pitch family traditions. 

Baz  
My sisters and my brother still make me run downstairs with them to see if Father Christmas has come.   
Not this year, naturally. 

Simon  
You big softie. 

Baz  
I will murder you. 

Simon  
Empty threats. :D 

-

The conversation peters out, as most of them do. He's confident at this point that given a few hours or a stretch of sleep, Simon will be texting him again. 

But he thinks about the fact that Simon can't sleep well in a quiet flat and about Simon as a child clutching a clementine as a prize and he hates the way those things embed themselves into his mind. 

It's after two when he picks up his phone. 

-

Baz  
Are you awake? 

Simon  
Yeah. Why are you? 

Baz  
Can't sleep. 

Simon  
:(

Baz  
Why are you? 

Simon  
Important work needed to be done.   
[image attached]

Baz  
Is that a jigsaw? 

Simon  
Yeah it's Penny's  
I accidentally knocked it over earlier and now I have to put it back together before Christmas.   
Five thousand bloody pieces, kill me Baz 

Baz  
I love jigsaws. 

Simon  
You come do it then! 

Baz  
Would that I could. 

Simon  
Really?

Baz  
Really, what?

Simon  
Would you? If you could 

Baz  
I believe I already said that. 

Simon  
Yeah but  
I dunno 

Baz  
I also believe that you don't know. 

Simon  
Glad we're in agreement there.   
I'm too impatient for this. 

Baz  
I'll order one and we can have jigsaw sessions. 

Simon  
Really?

Baz  
If that would help you. 

Simon  
Just to help me? 

Baz  
I also like jigsaws. 

Simon  
And me? 

Baz  
Needy. 

Simon  
AND ME? 

Baz  
Fine.   
And you. 

Simon  
Aw, Baz, don't go getting all mushy on me.   
I'm gonna think you may even be smiling. 

Baz  
Incorrect.  
[image attached]

Simon  
I'm saving that.   
New phone background.   
Any time I get too lonely your glare will be there to bring me back to earth. 

Baz  
Happy to be of service.   
Now I'm going to sleep. 

Simon  
Goodnight, Baz.   
[image attached]

-

Baz stays awake for a ridiculously long time staring at the picture of a smiling, relaxed Simon Snow wearing joggers and no shirt, jigsaw pieces spread out all around him. Maybe it's the late hour or maybe his defenses are just all around weakened, but he lets himself get lost in the gentle flutter of butterflies in his stomach and the growing warm across his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Sarah with the abracadabra magic editing skills. <3


	6. Chapter 6

Skyping with Snow is not nearly as awkward as Baz thought it might be. 

Snow has his computer on the coffee table and he's sat on the floor. The camera is angled slightly down, perfectly positioned for Baz to be able to see the spray of freckles across Snow's nose when he's looking down at his puzzle. 

Baz is at his kitchen table. His laptop is propped on a stack of old uni textbooks he hasn't bothered to get rid of yet, and his own puzzle is in front of him. 

"What even is that?" Snow asks. 

Baz picks up the box, showing it to him. "A nineteenth century map of the British Empire." 

"Wow," Snow says. "Even your puzzles are posh." 

"Oi," Baz warns. 

"Now that's not very posh of you." Simon mocks fondly. "Oi." 

"I probably picked it up from you." 

"Oi," Snow shoots back at him, using the same tone Baz had used. 

The smile on Baz's face feels strange and out of place. He looks down and starts to move pieces around, finding the edges first. 

-

"How do you get your hair to do that?" Snow asks. 

Baz glances up. "Do what?" 

"Be all broody and still look perfect." 

"I do wash it," Baz says. "That helps." 

Simon scrubs a hand through his own mop of curls. "I can't get mine to do anything." 

"We have very different hair, Snow," Baz says. "I don't think any of my advice would help you." 

"Maybe I'll just grow it out," Snow says. "Sod it and let it do what it wants." 

"I grew mine out after uni." 

"Really? How long?" 

Baz shrugs. "Long enough for a ponytail." 

"You have pictures, right? I need to see pictures." 

"If you finish your puzzle, I'll try and find a picture." 

Simon throws his fists in the air like he's just won a victory, then goes back to assembling pieces. 

-

"Do you play sport?" 

"I played football," Baz says. "In school." 

"Were you any good?" 

"I was very good." 

"I tried footie at school," Simon says. "I was a bit of a klutz, though. They told me I kicked the ball with too much force but I also didn't have any aim. Everything just went a bit haywire every time I stepped out onto the pitch." 

"Mm. I can imagine that." 

"I can imagine you being good, too," Simon says. "You're all... graceful and... legs." 

Baz lifts an eyebrow. "I do have those." 

"Tall," Simon corrects. "Is what I mean." 

Baz slots a piece of the puzzle into place and laughs under his breath. 

-

Baz isn't sure how this turned into an all day thing, but his puzzle is halfway complete and Snow is at least making some progress on his own. 

"This would go faster if you could just come over," Snow says. 

It's not the first time Snow has mentioned something like that. It makes a small part of Baz want to curl up in some weird blend of embarrassment and hope every time he does it. 

He answers with a terser-than-intended, "You can find better company than me, Snow." 

Snow looks up at him in surprise. "Why would you say that?" 

Baz shrugs. "You're the sort of man that people want to be friends with." 

"What's that mean?" Snow's face is scrunched in confusion. 

Suddenly Baz isn't sure this video concept is all that good of an idea after all. "Come on, Snow," he says disdainfully. 

"Come on _what_?" Snow asks. 

"You're just-" Baz sighs deeply. "You're fit and funny and likeable." 

Snow's face breaks into a wide grin. "You think I'm fit?" 

"No," Baz says immediately. 

"But you just said it." 

"I did not." 

"You definitely did." 

"I will go to my grave denying I said it." 

"You're wrong, though," Simon says. "I mean, not about me being fit. I am well fit and you definitely agree. But I don't have that many friends. We've talked about my tragic backstory before." 

"You live in London now. Definitely not in a care home. You're around people all the time. How could..." _How could they not all want to spend all of their time you?_ "You must have a girlfriend, at least." 

Snow's eyebrows jump all the way up. He rests his head on his palm, forearm flexing. "I must? See any girls around here, mate?" 

"You live with one," Baz says. Inside he's having a minor tantrum and considering slamming his laptop shut and blaming faulty internet service. 

"Yeah, but Pen's like my sister. I haven't had a girlfriend in... fuck, ages and ages. I guess not since Aggie, and that was a misery from the start, don't know how it even lasted as long as it did." 

Baz leaps at the chance to turn this conversation away from himself. "Why not?" 

"I only dated her because she was interested in me," Snow says. "And I reckon she figured that out before I even did." 

"Was she blonde and beautiful?" Baz asks dryly, remembering the fantasy life he'd crafted in his own imagination for Snow before even really getting to know him. 

Snow looks surprised. "Yeah, actually, how'd you know?" 

Baz snorts. "Just a guess." 

"Anyway, my point is - no girlfriend. I was a shit boyfriend and I didn't really enjoy dating girls so I think I'm better off being single and so are they." 

Baz proves again that he is his own worst enemy by the words that fly out of his mouth next. 

"What about boys?" 

"What?" Snow asks. 

"Are you better off not dating boys, either?" 

"Um." That confused look is back. Fuck. 

"Never mind." 

"I mean-" 

"Snow." Baz's voice is stern enough that Snow actually shuts up. Somehow, Baz hates that more. "I have to go." 

Snow frowns. "What? No, we can-" 

Baz shuts his laptop. 

-

He drowns his mildly humiliated sorrows in a bottle of whiskey and ignores the text messages lighting up his phone for as long as he can. 

His tether of patience breaks around two in the morning. 

Simon  
Baz?  
Can we talk?   
Baz?  
:(  
Please don't be cross with me.   
Life is pretty shit and talking to you is the nicest thing I have.   
Baz?

His no longer quite so drunken fingers fumble at the phone screen. 

Baz  
Things must really be bad if talking to me is your brightest spot. 

Simon  
Oh   
You're here!

Baz  
Is that a bad thing? 

Simon  
I thought maybe you'd blocked me or something. 

Baz  
Why

Simon  
idk  
I know you think I should be someone with friends   
But people have a way of deciding I'm not worth the trouble  
Everyone except Pen and I still don't know why she sticks around. 

Baz  
Then everyone except Penny are idiots. 

Simon  
Thanks, Baz. 

Baz almost falls asleep, a mixture of relief and the alcohol lulling him. He's settled with the conversation ending there and he feels like to continue on might be to ruin the tentative peace he feels. 

Simon Snow apparently does not have the same inclination. 

Simon  
Are you gay, Baz? 

Baz  
I am. 

He won't let himself apologize for who he is. He stopped doing that a long time ago. But he can't control his feelings as well as he can his actions, so the fear still trembles inside of him. 

Simon  
Okay, thanks.   
Sorry if it's not on to just ask like that. 

Baz  
It's fine. 

Simon  
Is it really? 

Baz  
I said it was.   
It's not something I'm ashamed of.   
It just hadn't come up. 

Simon  
How long have you known? 

Baz  
Since I was in primary school. 

Simon  
Oh wow   
I don't think I even knew what gay was then. 

Baz  
I didn't have the terminology for it, I'm sure. But I knew I didn't feel the same about girls as my classmates did. And a few years after that I knew I did feel that way about boys. 

Simon  
Have you had a boyfriend?

Baz  
Yes, though nothing lasting. 

Simon  
That's cool.   
I mean, not that it lasts.   
But that you've had a boyfriend. 

Baz  
I've had two, actually. 

Simon  
You get around, Pitch. 

Baz  
Only compared to you. 

Simon  
Youch! Pitch gets off a good one. 

Baz  
Idiot. 

Simon  
okay now I know you're really not cross anymore

Baz  
I said I wasn't. 

Simon  
Yeah but I didn't trust you. 

Baz  
I'm wounded. 

Simon  
It's really late. 

Baz  
It is. I should sleep. As should you. 

Simon  
I work tomorrow, so there's no point. I'll sleep when my shift is over. 

Baz  
Masochist. 

Simon  
If I knew what that meant I'd be offended.   
Can I ask one more question? 

Baz  
One. Only one. 

Simon  
What does fancying a bloke feel like? 

Baz  
I don't know, Simon.   
How am I supposed to have an answer to that?   
I imagine it feels just like how fancying women feels to you. 

Simon  
Oh. Right.   
Ta, then.   
Have a good sleep, Baz. Thanks for doing puzzles with me. 

Baz  
You don't need to thank me. I enjoyed it.   
Mostly. 

Simon  
Haha   
Okay goodnight 

Baz  
You already said that. 

Simon  
Shut up. 

Baz  
Goodnight, Snow.


	7. Chapter 7

Baz dreams about Simon Snow that night. 

They're doing a puzzle but they're together, no computer screen coming between them. In the dream he feels like he's a teenager again, like this is some boy from his boarding school that he'd been impossibly smitten with. 

Luckily for Baz there were no such boys at his school. A few fleeting hormone fueled infatuations, but nothing he really lost any sleep over. 

(He's not sure what his teenage self would have made of Simon Snow. Probably the same thing his adult self does.)

In the dream the puzzle never ended. There was a gaping hole in the middle of it and every time they put two pieces together, the rest just scattered all about. Baz remembers himself growing frustrated, asking Snow why it was doing that. 

He remembers Snow looking at him with a smug little grin and saying: _magic._

Then he wakes up and he's alone in his bed in a too-cold room, because he'd accidentally left the window open a crack and the city outside has decided to flirt with some proper London winter weather, sharply cold and wet. 

-

Work has been gradually slowing as the holidays approached. People are already working from home; they want to indulge in time with their families, not slaving over a desk while their kids decorate gingerbread a room away. There are no more meetings on the schedule and his inbox clears more easily than it has all year. 

He really has nothing to do. 

Maybe that's why he keeps picking up the phone to text Snow. In the past, it's usually been a thing Snow initiated. All Baz really had to do was reply. 

Now he's texting Snow and can't seem to stop. It's ridiculous, really. He's not saying anything of any importance, and Snow can't even answer. He's working a double shift and probably won't see anything Baz is saying until his lunch break. 

He's just texted Snow a picture of his coffee and a honey drizzled morning bun when he decides that's enough. He puts his phone down and sets about tidying the house for the forty minutes it takes before he hears the ding of a new message.

-

Simon  
OMG that's not fair  
my lunch is pathetic  
[image attached]

Baz  
What even is that? 

Simon  
Sausage rolls that were just past their expiry date. I was supposed to toss them but the manager always looks the other way if we eat stuff that's too gone off to stay on the shelf. 

Baz  
That's horrible. 

Simon  
Free food isn't horrible!

Baz  
They should provide you with actual meals considering the job you do every day. 

Simon  
Won't argue there.  
Anyway what's with all the messages today?  
Not that I'm complaining.  
Was the nicest thing about my morning so far. 

Baz  
I was just bored.  
Work is slow. 

Simon  
Bored and missed me? 

Baz  
I suppose. 

Simon  
wow expected you to tell me to sod off

Baz  
I can if you'd like me to. 

Simon  
you probably should. Just so I know an alien didn't take you over. 

Baz  
Actually sod off. 

Simon  
Do you reckon aliens really probe you up the bum? 

Baz  
I don't 'reckon' there are aliens at all. 

Simon  
I think about aliens sometimes. 

Baz  
You think? 

Simon  
Oi!

Baz  
What do you think about aliens? 

Simon  
That if they're really out there the smartest thing to do really would be to just look like regular old humans. Disguised and all. 

Baz  
Well, if they disguised themselves as a gay human, I suppose perhaps I've already been probed by one. 

Simon  
WHAT

Baz  
;) 

Simon  
Now that's in my head. 

Baz  
Me getting probed up the bum? 

Simon  
Something like that. 

Baz  
I'll leave you with that, then. I need to go swap my laundry to the dryer, and you need to eat your pathetic little sausage roll. 

Simon  
I'm getting you back for that later. 

-

Baz is expecting Simon to start texting again when his shift is over, but instead his phone rings. 

"This alright?" Simon asks. "I'm dead tired. Today was brutal at work." 

"Yeah?" Baz asks. "What was it, twelve hours? I can't even imagine." 

"Spent the last six of it just bagging delivery orders and helping load them up. I lost track of how many times I had to walk around the store, and then one old codger went off on a whole tear about how masks are killing people and it was just..." Simon sighs deeply. "It was a lot." 

"It sounds awful," Baz says. He sits on his sofa and pulls his legs up under him. "When do you work again?" 

"Tomorrow. Just a single, though. I go on from afternoon to close." 

"Good." Baz isn't sure if Simon is surprised at the fierceness of his voice or not, but Baz can hear it in his own ears. "You need to rest. Dealing with that will wear you out. And can't your manager deal with idiots like the mask person?" 

"He was too busy sorting out something else," Simon says. His voice sounds drowsy. 

"Have you had dinner?" 

Simon laughs. It sounds sleepy and quiet and close up. Like it would if they were in bed together. 

Baz shoves that thought out of his head. 

"Don't worry. Food is the one thing I'll never sacrifice. I had a toastie before I rang you. Two, actually." 

"Good," Baz says. "Where are you now?" 

"In bed. Are you mumming me? Is that what you're doing?" 

"Not in the slightest," Baz says. "Have you had water to drink?" 

"You're mumming me!" Simon sounds delighted. "Can I do it back at you?" 

"No," Baz says. "I'm an adult who knows how to take care of myself." 

"Well, will you at least tell me if you're in bed?" Simon asks, and some of the levity is gone from his voice, just leaving the softness behind. 

Baz presses his lips together slightly. "No," Baz says. 

"Oh." 

"But I'm about to be." And then, because he won't make a liar out of himself, he walks into his bedroom. He's already dressed down. He'd had a nice soak after his own dinner and hadn't bothered putting proper clothes on after it. He slides under the sheets and then says, "I'm in bed now." 

"Send me a picture of your bedroom," Simon asks. 

Baz could question it. But he doesn't. He lifts up his phone and takes a picture. He studies it before he sends it, trying to imagine it through Snow's eyes. The walls are a deep cobalt blue and he has black shelving units and a dresser that match. It looks a bit dark and gothic, but given the space and resources to decorate on his own, this is what felt most like him. 

He sends the picture and says, "Show me yours." 

It comes back so quickly that Baz wonders if Simon had already taken it. The walls are beige and there's a pile of laundry on the floor, a pair of trainers discarded beside it. He sees a green backpack resting on a chair and there must be a desk just out of sight. 

There's not much besides that, though. It seems too drab for someone like Simon who just bursts with life. 

"Thank you," he says, remembering they're on the line together. 

"Your bedroom looks posh," Simon says. "I bet your bed is comfy as fuck, isn't it?" 

"It is," Baz says. "The mattress cost more than a month's rent did on my first flat." 

"Mine came with the place. It was actually in Penny's room, but she refused to use a stranger's mattress. I just saw it as free. It does hurt my back, though. There are springs that poke up." 

"Maybe one day you can try mine." Baz doesn't mean to say it but he doesn't really stop himself, either. 

"You inviting me over, then, Pitch?" 

"When it's safe," Baz says. 

"For a nap?" 

"What else?" Baz feigns innocence, mostly to give Snow the out. 

Snow doesn't really take it. "Only if you nap with me." 

"That can be arranged." 

"Good," Snow says. "It's a nap date." 

There's a massive yawn at the tail end of his sentence. "Yes. And now it's time for you to liaise with your actual bed." 

"That a fancy way of telling me to go to sleep?" 

"Yes." 

"Knew it. Okay, fine. I'll talk to you in the morning, Baz. Oh, and you're gonna tell me what that pastry you sent me a picture of this morning is." 

"In the morning," Baz promises, then stays on the line just a beat or two more to listen to the sound of Snow's breath deepening before he hangs up.


	8. Chapter 8

When Baz wakes up the morning of December 23rd to a sleepy and shirtless selfie of Simon, he knows for sure that something between them has shifted. 

It's not entirely a surprise. It's been happening over the past few days. Text message conversations end in phone calls in bed now. Simon asks invasive questions and Baz tells him to fuck off half the time, and the other half he actually answers. 

Last night Simon asked him about his first crush on a boy. Baz stares at the selfie, at the sun kissing Simon's freckles in it, the way his eyes are crinkled half-shut. He looks cozy and warm and comfortable and suddenly Baz is remembering keenly the way Simon's breathing went a little deeper when Baz talked about his first kiss. He'd said it sounded nice and then they'd moved on to talking about something else until Baz had to sleep. He can barely remember saying goodnight, but it doesn't matter now because he's got an even better good morning, grinning through his phone screen at him. 

Simon knows bloody well what he's doing. 

Baz sincerely hopes he doesn't stop. 

-

Baz has a busy day. 

He's never been the epitome of Christmas spirit, but he feels a bit like celebrating right now. He wraps gifts with precision neatness, sliding a finger and thumb down the edge of every parcel to make the corners crisp and neat. He uses brown twine to add another touch, a simple brown gift tag on each gift, the name of a different sibling on each one. His dad and Daphne have an envelope instead, a voucher for a nice meal catered to their door. 

When he's finished wrapping them all and satisfied with the presentation, he loads them into his car and makes the drive to just outside the city. The car itself is a luxury gone unused most of the year, but he finds pleasure in driving the emptied out streets right now. 

He doesn't tell his family when he's arrived. He doesn't even linger, really. There's not much here that pulls at his heartstrings. He just puts his tidy pile down on the doorstep and then gets back in the car and leaves. 

There are two gifts still on the seat beside him. 

-

One is for his mum. 

He's not sure why he still does this every year. It's not as though he really believes there's any part of her under the ground. It's all symbolic and a bit indulgent, but still he makes this same journey out every year. 

There are a couple of other cars at the cemetery, but he makes sure to park far away and encounters no one on his short walk. The wind is growing colder and he wraps his scarf around his neck, another layer besides the mask he already wears. 

His mum's plot looks just like it had when he'd come to visit last on her birthday. 

He does linger here. He doesn't speak to her, just stares at the name carved on the headstone, and then sighs. He's not sure what he'd even tell her if he could. In the end he just leaves the gift, a picture of himself in a simple frame, and then walks away. 

-

He feels heavier now as he sits in his car, at least until he checks his phone. 

Simon  
Baz  
Basilton  
Baschard  
Basilliam  
Bastian  
Wait that one works  
On break. Where are u?? :( 

Baz  
Sorry, been out and out. 

Simon  
Tellin on you, mate 

Baz  
Don't worry.   
Safe and socially distanced.   
[image attached]

Simon  
:/   
Who are you visiting? 

Baz  
My mum 

Simon  
:(  
Would a bad joke make you feel better? 

Baz  
No  
But if you must 

Simon  
What does Santa suffer from if he gets stuck down the chimney? 

Baz  
I don't know. 

Simon  
CLAUStrophobia!

Baz  
I think I would have understood the joke even without the capitalization. 

Simon  
What do you call Father Christmas when he goes on holiday to the beach? 

Baz  
You can stop now. 

Simon  
SANDY CLAUS

Baz  
Put me out of my misery. 

Simon  
What do Santa's helpers post on instagram? 

Baz  
I'm literally begging you. 

Simon  
ELFIES  
[image attached]

Baz  
You look far too pleased with yourself. 

Simon  
I am. I made you laugh. 

Baz  
You absolutely did not. 

Simon  
Yeah, I totally did. I can tell. I have psychic Baz powers now. 

Baz  
Fine.   
But only the first one.

Simon  
Send me a picture back. 

Baz  
Why?

Simon  
Because I want to see your face, dummy. Why else? 

Baz  
[image attached]  
Better?

Simon  
Much. :) 

-

They talk until Simon's break is over, and then Baz gets in his car and drives back into the city. 

-

He's nervous about his last delivery of the day. He won't be taking the car; instead he waits until it's ten til four and then he takes the handle of a gift bag and sets out on foot. 

He doesn't have to wait long. Three minutes after his shift is over Simon is stalking out of the Tesco door, head tucked down against the increasing cold. 

"Snow," Baz calls out, voice clear. 

It's almost comical how fast Simon jerks around. It's less comical the way his face lights up. Baz can tell that even through the mask he's wearing. "Baz?" 

"Hi," Baz says. 

For a moment they just stare at each other. It's the first time they've locked eyes in the light of day in quite a while. 

"What are you doing here?" Simon asks. 

"Brought you a gift." Baz holds it out. 

Simon steps forward, close enough to take it. "Should I open it now?" 

Baz shrugs. "If you like." 

"I think I'll save it," Simon says. "Something to put under the tree so it doesn't look so pathetic. Pen left me something, so that makes two." 

"More than me," Baz says. "Though I'm sure my father will courier over some gifts tomorrow, when my step mum reminds him." 

Someone else walks out and they both step further away to give the woman enough berth to move without having to go between them. 

"Baz," Simon says. "You know we could..." 

"We could what?" Baz's heart starts to flutter, mostly because Simon actually looks nervous. 

"We're both living alone right now." Simon's eyes are very blue. "We're allowed - support. Especially at Christmas. We could spend the day together." 

"Do you need support, Snow?" Baz asks softly. 

Simon half-shrugs. "Probably need a lot of things, but yeah. That's one of them, sure." 

"And you want it from me?" Baz asks. 

"Reckon I want a few things from you." It sounds just as bold and flirtatious coming out of Simon's mouth as it does his text messages. 

"Snow." Baz laughs in disbelief. 

"We're friends, right?" Simon plunges ahead. "I mean, if nothing else, we're friends, and I won't - it's your decision-" 

"Of course it is," Baz says, but there's no bite at all to his voice. 

"I've spent a lot of Christmases alone," Simon says. "So I figure I'd do fine with that. But I just really like the idea of spending this one with you. Just... seeing how it goes. You've kept me sane for the past month, you know that, right?" 

"I'd argue that neither of us are exactly sane," Baz says. "But I suppose you've done the same for me." 

"So maybe it can..." Simon takes a deep breath. "Maybe it can be a Christmas date?" 

Baz nods. "Alright, then. A date." 

Their eyes meet again, a stare that holds and holds and holds. Simon's cheeks are pink and Baz feels the smile he's fighting defy him to form on his own face. Simon laughs and then takes a step back. "Okay. Yeah. I'll - I'll text you." 

-

Simon doesn't text, and he also doesn't wait. Baz is just around the corner still wondering if he really just got asked out by Simon Snow when his phone rings. 

"So, about dinner. I hope you know I'm expecting cherry scones..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to sarah for being my support with fic, with writing, with the perpetual loneliness of the holidays, and in general with everything. 
> 
> also watch this spot around new year's eve/day for a little update on how their christmas day went!

**Author's Note:**

> Not only do I owe Sarah endless gratitude for the beta reading but also just for showing me these characters I've fallen in love with.


End file.
